


Disqualifier

by Diaph (orphan_account)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Becky Lynch/Charlotte Flair - Freeform, Becky and Charlotte, Charlotte Flair/Becky Lynch - Freeform, Charlotte and Becky, F/F, Fluff, Lesbians, Protective Charlotte, Tumblr Prompt, WWE Survivor Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Diaph
Summary: Prompt: Can you please write a story that fills in the blanks of the whole Becky Lynch getting hurt by Nia Jax saga in that dreamy way you do with Charlotte and Becky as girlfriends?AKA:Behind every great man, is a greater woman.





	Disqualifier

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know whether to write this or not because it's totally out of my wheel house but WWE is like my secret geeky Kryptonite and so I couldn't turn down the chance to try something different from the usual. I don't like writing about real people but the WWE is literally a soap-opera with spandex and so I'm going to bend just this once.

Normally, the frantic business backstage was a welcomed sight. The men bustling past each other with headsets, the officials crowded around peering at tiny television screens, the Superstars limbering up and transforming themselves into the David and Goliath beasts that put on the main show night after night. It was a performance in and of itself. It was a throwback to the days when she would be hoisted up on to her father’s shoulders and toted around as the next-generation of the Flair dynasty. The future Queen. The tiny ball of blonde hair and chubby cheeks who was too much like her father in all the best ways possible. Tonight, the performance backstage wasn’t entertaining in the slightest. Terrifying would be the closed thing to describe it, which wasn’t a word Charlotte used with any sort of frequency.

“What the hell happened out there?” Stephanie seemed dumbfounded.

“Is she okay?” Charlotte mumbled, too busy glancing around for a red-haired bolshy girl who couldn’t be missed. “It wasn’t fake blood? I thought it might have been fake blood to sell it?” She became more unsettlingly certain of the facts.

“It happened here!” An official turned to Stephanie, pointing at the paused tiny screen. It drew both of their attention. “Christ, did Nia think she was Mike Tyson out there?!” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Truth be told, Charlotte couldn’t believe it either. The screen was rewinded and replayed, again and again, from all sorts of different camera angles. She watched that huge fist wind backwards, watched it smack Becky square in the eye, watched her sometimes-girlfriend crash into the mat like a sack of bricks and thrash with the pain before barely stumbling back to her feet - blood gushing down her face. How the hell she got back up, Charlotte isn’t sure. It leaves her seething and impressed, simultaneously.

At least half the female rosters were stood around, talking among one another, piecing and weaving bits of information together, entirely in the way of the officials who had to dart and snake between them from one side of the hall to the other. Charlotte felt the venom rise up in her throat, felt the urge to command them to the locker room out of the way damn near throttle her dry.

There was a hesitant tap on her shoulder. Charlotte turned around, unblinking and beyond able to hide her agitation. Ronda was already on the backfoot, already wide-eyed and equally unsure of what the hell just happened.

“Is she okay?” Ronda scratched her head.

The boom of the arena was still in full swing, the lights and crowd both up and roaring, still. It made any sort of calm interaction impossible, it rendered the Queen unable to be logical, or make assurances that this was all just part of the business. In her mind she knew the contrary was the truth, injuries happen, and they always come at the worst possible timing, but very rarely were they as intentional and careless as this.

“Is nobody going to ask how my fist feels?” Nia turned the corner, smirking and rubbing her hand.

Charlotte flew.

“Easy!” Stephanie shouted between them, straight in the middle of ruckus as blue and red tattered shirts clustered around and broke them up. “This is not how we do things! Both of you, out of here!” She pointed in opposite directions of the hallway.

“You should be thanking me, you know.” Nia rubbed her jaw and stared at the Queen.

“And how did you figure that out?” Charlotte peered down her nose, infuriated and ready for a fight.

“Now  **you** will be the one to face Ronda at Survivor Series.” Nia stepped forward, eyebrows raised. “Now  **you** will be the first woman in the WWE to beat her and get your fifteen minutes in the limelight.” She smirked, taking another step until they were eye-to-eye. “And as for me? I just booked my ticket straight to the main-event of Wrestlemania. A Becky Lynch vs. Nia Jax redemption showdown. You can tell your little girlfriend—once she remembers she’s your little girlfriend, of course—that Nia Jax just made her part of the first female bout to headline a Wrestlemania!”

“This isn’t how we do things,” Charlotte seethed, her jaw grinding itself into a fury. “Your card is marked, Nia. You just wait and see, because when I’m finished with you the only thing you’ll be headlining is mall openings and  church bake sales!”

“Oooooh,” Nia teased with a wide-eyed grin. “I’m shaking.”

…

There’s a room along the hallway where there’s never good news. Charlotte padded towards the sound of Irish bristling, followed the trail of speckled blood that was left all over the floor, trudged there reluctantly with her bravado dripping off her spine like sweat. Eventually she was stood outside, peering through the open door as medical officials and suits tried to keep the Lass Kicker sat on the bed.

“I am the Man!” She roared like a lion, blood spattering off of her white teeth. “You think a little Irish warpaint is going to stop me come Sunday? You think that you, or Nia Jax, or Vince McMahon himself, can keep me from what’s mine?!” She shot her stare between the officials, daring them to try and touch her again.

“Kiddo,” Shane frowned and shook his head. “You need to go to the hospital and that is not a debate or discussion, you took a mean knockdown.”

“I’m fine!” Becky insisted.

“Can I talk to her?” Charlotte spoke up.

Shane sighed and shrugged. 

“You can try.” He glanced at the seething and bloodied wrestler barely keeping herself upright. “You’ve got five minutes and if she is not on her way to the emergency room then I’m going to start making phone calls.” He warned with a severe expression.

“Understood,” Charlotte said nothing else.

The room emptied out until only the two of them remained. It was then Charlotte felt uncomfortable. It was usually her who was sat in here, dinged up and difficult after a flip gone wrong, a little sore but ready for another fight nonetheless. Becky would empty out the room and give her the talk. The one about not blurring the lines between the show and reality, that they weren’t invincible, that shit happens and they just have to dig deep and take the set-back in their stride.

Charlotte didn’t want to have to be the one to give her that talk. Not now. Not five days before the greatest match of her life. Especially when she would no doubt be the one replacing her in the squared circle.

“I’m the Man!” Becky snapped, her eyes bloodshot and smeared crimson. “I am the Champ! They said I couldn’t do it, they said girls like me don’t get stages like this, and here I am! You have to tell them I can still fight, Charlotte. You have to help—”

“Becky you look like you’ve been hit by a goddamn bus!” Charlotte couldn’t help herself. She instantly felt guilty. “I know how badly you want this but we promised each other we would always be honest. Do you remember that?”

Becky glanced away and chewed her lips.

“I know what it’s like to have the belt and feel on top of the world.” Charlotte leaned against the cabinets and nodded towards the white belt slung on the end of the bed. “I think you forget that sometimes.”

“So this is how it is then?” Becky shot her a look. “My own girlfriend is railroading me too, and so she can take my spot no less?” The realisation earned a bitter laugh.

“Baby, I know what it’s like to forget that we are just characters and storylines for the men in suits upstairs to play with but that doesn’t make it untrue. Yesterday I was the champion, today you’re the champion, and tomorrow it will be someone else. How badly you want it has nothing to do with how everything plays out, and so I am asking you nicely, Becky, please don’t put your life and body on the line for the sake of a story. That’s all.” Charlotte tried to make herself calm.

Her face wouldn’t stop bleeding, and that was by far the worst part. It left Charlotte brooding and terrified, because what if there were other things bleeding? What if there was internal damage? What if they were sat here wasting precious minutes while Becky lost sight in that eye or worse, suffered a brain bleed? She couldn’t stomach the thoughts. They were faraway possibilities, and she knew that, but the trouble with being born into a wrestling dynasty was the trivial knowledge of all the different kinds of impossible tragedies that had happened in the business before.

“It must be so easy for you to stand there and separate who we have to be in the stadium with who we are at home. I mean, you were born into all of this. Your dad is Ric Flair,  _ Wooooooooooo! _ ” Becky cocked her head to side and made the walls ache against the long trademark whistle. She chuckled afterwards, laughed bitterly, wept and failed to hold back the tears. “I had to fight tooth and nail to get here. I had to claw my way to this belt. I had to do things I’m not proud of and for what? For Nia Jax to take away a fight so grand I never dared to dream of it?”

“Becky you’re not thinking straight right now, you need to go to the hospital,” Charlotte said softly.

“I need to go out there and give the crowd a reason to tune in Sunday and watch me defeat Ronda!”

“You need to sit your ass down before I carry you kicking and screaming to the car!”

“You don’t get to do this!” Becky shoved her chest, hard. “You don’t get to be my girlfriend and the woman who takes Survivor Series from me! It’s one or the other, Charlotte!”

Charlotte stood there and made herself fit for purpose. She blinked and glanced away, bracing herself and allowing the bloodied palms of her girlfriend to push on her chest and belly. When she was satisfied Becky was finished, when she was frowning into the sight of her heaving chest, she finally spoke again.

“I choose my girlfriend, every time, without hesitation, you dumb fuck.”

It earned a small laugh.

“We promised we would always be honest, right?” Charlotte knelt down.

Becky nodded and peered at her with glassy eyes.

“Then I give you my word, I’ll make sure you’re the first woman to beat Rousey.”

“You’re talking about throwing the match?” Becky furrowed her brows.

“No.” Charlotte already knew what the implication would be if she threw the match just because the whim struck her. “Well, not quite, I just have an idea for a better finale on Sunday. Just… shut up and let me take you to the hospital?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Becky finally relented and pushed up on her feet.

She almost toppled over, her knees buckled and gave way. Thankfully, the Queen was there to catch her. She dared to press a chaste kiss on the top of her ginger head.

“You’re okay, big girl,” Charlotte sighed and slung Becky’s arm over her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

…

The concussion was severe, and on some level, the drowsy sleeping wrestler who was busy wrangling with blankets and pillows instead of bodies was a secret blessing. Charlotte sat on the edge of their bed and fiddled with her phone, waiting for the callback.

The phone finally rang.

“Hello?” She answered quietly and toed out of the bedroom.

“Hey it’s Stephanie, I have Ronda on the line too.” The commissioner replied.

“Hey Charlotte,” Ronda added. “Hell of a day at the office, huh?”

Charlotte sniffed and sighed.

“You could say that, sure.” She made her way downstairs towards the kitchen to put the tea on that Becky would no doubt be hollering for soon enough.

“Listen, I just want you to know that none of us had any idea what Nia was planning—”

“Becky is going to be fine, thanks for asking.” Charlotte interrupted Stephanie before she could finish. “Broken nose, fractured cheekbone, a mean concussion, but she’ll be back as soon as the doctor clears her.” Charlotte dipped her chin into the hoodie borrowed from her girlfriend.

Stephanie sighed.

“Well, that is very good news, all things considered. You know you’re going to have to take her place at Survivor Series this weekend, right?”

“Who is replacing Nia for her match?” Charlotte grabbed mugs from the cabinet.

“Maybe I should let you two speak in private…” Ronda trailed on the line.

“No,” Charlotte said abruptly. “It’s fine. I take it you’re not suspending her?”

“Charlotte, business is business, you know that. Nia will get her karma soon enough but ratings went through the roof tonight, this really is a perfect setup for a Wrestlemania headline fight between her and Becky…”

Charlotte paused. 

“What if I gave you a better storyline? What if I gave you Ronda and Becky as your Wrestlemania headline fight?”

“That could work?” Ronda added.

Stephanie bristled on the other end of the phone.

“How about you both do your job and I do mine?” Stephanie snapped. “I think we’ve had enough surprises for one day, don’t you?”

“Stephanie, listen,” Charlotte tried, the headache already brewing. “I could disqualify myself at the end of the match, do some huge heel-turn and brutalise Rousey. Kendo sticks, chairs, the works! The crowd would go—”

“You listen to me,” Stephanie seethed. “You’re going to show up on Sunday and do your job and you take the win with your moonsault. So help me god, if you try and pull any fast ones Charlotte you can forget about a title shot!” The phone clicked and Stephanie hung up.

Charlotte sighed and closed her eyes.

“You still there?” Ronda spoke up.

“Mmhm,” Charlotte juggled the phone between her neck and shoulder as the tea began to steam.

“Kendo sticks and chairs, huh?” Ronda seemed intrigued.

“It would hurt like a bitch… I won’t go easy on you just because you’re their star girl…”

“I don’t like cheaters, Charlotte. Nia shouldn’t be rewarded for her recklessness.” Ronda became quite serious. “Besides, staying undefeated a little longer sounds pretty sweet. You sure you want to give up a title shot?”

“I already have eight of them.” Charlotte didn’t even hesitate. “I’d rather have her instead."

The sound of movement upstairs perked Charlotte’s ears.

“Babe?” Becky hollered. “Can I have a cup of tea please?”

“Coming!” Charlotte shouted back. She turned her attention to the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. “I’ve got to go, Ronda. I’m tied up over here.”

“By all means. I hope she is worth it, Charlotte.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

  
  



End file.
